About Time
by ScienceGeek
Summary: A murdered woman's husband helps Grissom realize he's almost out of time with Sara. GS
1. Out of Time

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**A/N: **As always, I do not own any part of CSI…unless you count the nifty CSI hat I got for writing a letter to Carol Mendelhson.

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**Spoilers: **A small one for Bloodlines. There are no Season 5 spoilers, and Greg is still in the lab. There is an important spoiler for Invisible Evidence, however.

Chapter 1: Out of Time

Sara didn't sense his presence at her back; her attention was focused entirely on the table before her. She was tucked away in one of the smaller labs, a box of evidence spread out on the table's lighted surface. She leafed through a stack of crime scene photos, a frown tugging at her lips as she pulled one from the pile. Her pen tapped impatiently on her knee as her gloved fingers traced the outline of a ligature mark on the woman in the photo. Dropping the picture, she lifted the telephone cord that had made the offensive marks, sighing as she lifted the object for at least the hundredth time. Over the past year, she had dusted it, fumed it, had it in Trace at least four times, went over it with every tool at her disposal, and still nothing. She had the murder weapon, and still had nothing.

She tossed it back on the table with a deep exhale. A moment later, she dropped her head onto her hands, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

"You're quitting? Just like that? She a waste of your time, too?"

Sara jerked upright, whirling around at the hostile tone. "What are you doing in here?" She glanced at the visitor's badge on the man's chest, "I'm sorry, you really shouldn't be back…"

That was all she got out before the man was lunging at her, his hands wrapping around her throat as he pinned her against the evidence table. Sara kicked out viciously, but he was too close for her to do much damage. Her hands came up to his, her nails digging against the back of his hands. His only response was to grunt, and shove her harder against the edge of the table. As she was blacking out, Sara realized she should have gone for his eyes.

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Catherine and Nick had just left on a breaking and entering in Millvale when the 419 came in. Sara and Warrick were only too glad to drop their paperwork in order to accompany Grissom on the call. Sheriff Atwater was anxious about this one, had come to Grissom personally with the assignment slip. Madelyn Beal had called 911 twenty minutes before the responding officers found her body, apparently strangled, in her bed. She'd been surprised by the cat, which she had already locked in the garage for the night, wandering into her room.

A new dispatcher hadn't given a cat loose in the house high enough of a priority. The officers were too late to save her life.

It was going to be a media circus.

"Gil," Atwater stood outside the Beal home, "We need you on your game with this one. The office…the city…can't afford any more screw ups."

Grissom's answer was dry, as he glanced over at Sara and Warrick who stood poised with their kits, waiting for him. "My team always does their best, Sheriff."

The sheriff sighed, holding up his hands, "All right Gil, all right. Just remember…"

His answer was a sigh, "If I forget, I'm sure you'll remind me." He turned to his team then, "Warrick, take the inside. Sara, you have the body. Warrick will join you there when he's done." He glanced over to where Brass was standing in the doorway. "I'll be with Jim. Interviewing the husband."

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Sara worked the master bedroom silently, her jaw tightening when she would glance at where the nude body of the woman had been sprawled on the bed.

David had come and gone an hour before, after Sara had a chance to examine Madelyn Beal. They would have to wait for Doc Robbins' final report, but both David and Sara believed the cause of death would be strangulation. If they were lucky, they would be able to get prints off the bruises on her neck.

Sara was just deactivating the ALS when she heard her name from the doorway. She turned to find Warrick slipping on a fresh pair of gloves. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," He nodded to the light, "Find anything?"

"No…no blood." She paused, glancing at the rumpled sheets, "No semen. No vaginal secretions. No biological fluids on the sheets." She looked up, her brown eyes meeting his green ones. "Doc will do a rape kit, but there were no other external signs of sexual assault."

Warrick breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. That's good. You got anything else?"

She held up her evidence kit, "Three hairs, dark. Our vic was a redhead. What about the husband, have you seen him?"

"Blonde."

A small smile flitted across Sara's face, "Could be the killer's then. One of them has a skin tag. And…" She nodded toward the bed, "Our vic fought back. She had skin under her nails. Bruising around her neck. Her hands were tied. What did you find downstairs?"

Warrick walked carefully around the room, Maglight scanning the carpet, "Guy got in through a service door in the garage. Came into the house through the connecting hallway."

"Letting the cat back into the house. Why was the cat in the garage anyway?" Sara knelt on the floor, her light peeking under the bed. "I got a scarf."

"Husband is allergic to cats." He nodded to the silk material in her hands, "Murder weapon?"

Sara's shook her head, "No. Finger shaped bruises, he didn't use a weapon. May be what was used on her wrists." She dropped the scarf into an evidence bag. "What about the husband? Grissom still with him?"

"Yeah."

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"We're very sorry for your loss, Mr. Beal". Brass leaned against the kitchen doorway as he spoke. "Can you think of anyone who would want to kill your wife?"

"No." Jeremy Beal paced the kitchen, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "No one…Maddy…Maddy is….she's too sweet to make enemies." He turned, searching first Grissom's, then Brass' eyes. "You'll find them? You'll find whoever ki…whoever did this?"

Grissom took a slow breath, "We'll do our best, Mr. Beal."

"It's my fault," He stopped, turning to face the CSI. "I should have been here. It's all my fault."

Grissom's eyes tracked the man as he wandered anxiously through the room. "Where were you, Mr. Beal?"

"At the office. I….I'm an associate at Benson and Murry. I got the job just a year out of Law School. Do you know what a coup that was? Benson and Murry is the hottest firm in Vegas. I was on track to…I wanted to make partner before I turn 30. But they…they expect complete devotion from their junior staff." He paused, dropping to the chair across from Grissom. "Maddy….Maddy wanted to go out to Lake Mead this weekend. But…but I told her there would be time later. When I made partner." He looked up at the CSI, "I always thought there would be time. You know?"

Grissom sighed, "We all do, Mr. Beal. Until we're out of it."


	2. Wasted Time

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**A/N: **As always, I do not own any part of CSI.

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Chapter 2: "Wasted Time"

Grissom stood in the doorway to the morgue, unnoticed for the moment, watching Sara with Al Robbins. She was bent over the body of Madelyn Beal, camera fixed on the marks on her wrists as Robbins measured the finger impressions on her neck. This was Sara in deep concentration mode, her brow furrowed as she lined up the camera just so. This, Grissom could admit to himself, was Sara at her most beautiful. Jeremy Beal's laments about wasted time rang in his ears as his eyes lingered on her. With his gaze fixed, Grissom missed Doc Robbins as he glanced at him, missed the knowing look that passed over the older man's face.

Robbins let the moment pass, and when Griss' eyes lifted from Sara's bent form, he called out a greeting. "You're just in time, Gil. We've got pictures, measurements of the injuries; I'm just about to start the internal exam."

Grissom nodded, "Prints?"

It was Sara who answered with a slow shake of her head, "No. He wiped her neck clean. Maybe with the scarf we found at the scene, or maybe with the bed sheets. They're all with Jaqui and Warrick, but…"

He nodded as he slid his arms into the set of scrubs, "Getting prints off fabric is difficult, at best."

"Yeah," Sara shrugged, her breath coming out in a soft whoosh. "But…the scarf is silk. Fragile enough to give us a shot. And you know Warrick."

"Mr. 'I can get prints off air'? Yeah. So…what do we have, Albert?"

As Sara and David had suspected, Madelyn Beal had died of asphyxia due to strangulation. Otherwise, she'd been in perfect health. The victim's x-rays showed no injuries, either current or healed. Sara and Grissom both had sighed with relief when the rape kit came back negative. Sara's eyes had flown to Madelyn Beal's face, while Grissom's had sought out Sara.

Robbins watched Grissom for a moment, and then cleared his throat. "The only thing probative we've got is an approximate measurement of the perp's hands." He glanced at the pair of investigators, eyes moving from one to the other before settling on the woman. "I'm sorry."

She shrugged, "It happens. I'm going to go check on Warrick and the prints."

"Sara…"

She turned back at the sound of Grissom's voice, "Yeah?"

"We'll get him."

"Sure." Her lips lifted in a quick smile before she turned away and stepped out of the morgue.

"Gil?" Robbins shook his head as he stepped closer to the other man, "How long are you going to let this go on?"

Grissom stiffened at the question, blowing out a long breath. His eyes met the doctor's briefly, but his only answer was a shrug, before he followed Sara out of the door.

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The best Warrick had managed was a partial print, and even that had no matches in AFIS…so far. By the end of the next shift, he and Sara had done all they could with the evidence they had. DNA was still with Greg, and one or two fibers Sara had collected were with Trace. Grissom had reassigned Warrick to another case, and though he and Sara were still on the Beal murder, they had to take on new cases as well.

Grissom held the door open for Sara as they returned from their home invasion. She laughed as they walked in, bringing a grin to his face. "What?"

"Grissom, did you ever see that show 'America's Dumbest Criminals'?"

Brow creasing suddenly, Grissom watched Sara for a moment, "You're kidding me?"

"No, really." She laughed, holding up her hands, "Honestly. There is such a show. And I think our perps would make great headliners for the next episode."

For a moment, Grissom was torn between answering Sara's laugh with one of his own, and commenting on his ever-present worry about the state of the world as measured by television programming. He wisely chose the first option. "I don't know Sara, I feel a little cheated. All our skills amount to nothing when the perp leaves his school ID behind."

She was still grinning when Greg came up to them, lab printout in his hands. "Sara, Gris…I got a match on the DNA from the Beal case."

"Great!" Grissom thought Sara's face might split open when her grin intensified as she reached for the results. "Who is it?"

Greg paused before handing the paper to her, "No name. A match. To a cold case. It was yours, Sara. Andrea Barber."

The smile drained from Sara's face as she took the paper in her hands. "Dammit!" She turned to look at Grissom for a moment, and then rushed off down the hall. Grissom watched the scene unfold, feeling his own mood deflate at the glare Sara had thrown him.

"Sara! Wait!"

She didn't even turn around, "I don't have time for this right now, Grissom."

He stared after her, until she disappeared around a corner. "What was that all about, Greg?"

The young man looked at Grissom for a moment before shaking his head. "You don't remember Andrea Barber? Her homicide is the one you took Sara off last year, to work the Lyford case."

Grissom stared down the empty corridor, where Sara had just disappeared, echoing her own statement from moments before. "Dammit."

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Grissom shuffled through his messages as he entered the lab the next night, already blinking his eyes against a headache. The press was still howling about the botched 911 call, and this evening's papers had been even more damning. Someone had leaked the link between the Barber case of a year ago, to the Beal case and the headlines had been scathing. Gil hadn't even bothered with the stories themselves. Both Cavallo and Atwater had left messages demanding explanations.

Catherine caught up with him before he was halfway to his office. "You should really give her another case you know, or better yet, send her home; she's been pouring over these two for two straight shifts." Catherine's long legs easily kept up with his rapid stride. At his blank look the blonde sighed, "Sara! Griss. She's hasn't left the lab since this morning. She's been pouring over the evidence from the Barber case for twelve hours. This isn't good for her, and you know it."

When he still didn't answer her, Catherine stopped, her eyes locking on his. "It's time, Gil."

That had done the trick, as Cath had known it would. Say something enigmatic and the King of Inscrutable Comments would have to defend his crown. Grissom stopped as well, his breath hovering on a sigh. "Time for what, Catherine?"

"To pull your head back out of that microscope, Gil." Her tone was softer than before, "Before you know it, you'll have used up all your chances."

"I already have, Cath…"

"She's still here, isn't she?" Catherine reached out and took Grissom's arm, "Do something about this…whatever it is between you…while you still have time. And before it's too late for her, too."

Grissom didn't have to ask her to clarify her final statement, his memory of Sara sitting slumped in a chair in the police station reminded him all too clearly what 'too late' for Sara might look like. He handed Catherine the night's assignment slips and the rest of his messages, "Take care of these, will you?" He didn't wait for her response before he strode toward the lab where Sara had been working when he left that morning.

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TBC


	3. In Time

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**A/N: **As always, I do not own any part of CSI. This is the final chapter, apologies for the delay; I had to re-work it several times. I didn't like the first fifteen drafts. ;-)

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Chapter 3: In time

CSI headquarters was a warren of glass and steel, twisting back upon itself repeatedly as labs and offices were tucked in almost as helter-skelter as an ant colony. It was no wonder Grissom felt so at home there.

Tonight though, he barely noticed his surroundings as he made his way to the little back-corner lab where Sara had secluded herself after the Barber connection had come up. He had tried to talk to her that morning as she poured over the evidence from the cold case. He winced as he remembered the cool look she had given him when he finally found her. She'd barely listened as he tried to talk to her, tried to explain why he'd needed to put the whole team on the Lyford case; there had been the ticking clock, the sheriff breathing down their necks, a suspect ready to be freed, Warrick's guilt over the forgotten search warrant.

She'd interrupted him then, her voice echoing softly through the small room. "Right. Warrick. Your favorite CSI."

Not knowing how to answer that, how to deny it without telling her the truth of who was his favorite, he'd tried switching tactics. "Sara. In the end, the time didn't matter to Andrea Barber; we never had enough to go on. It did matter to the Lyford family. And to Michael Fife."

When she'd finally looked up, Grissom almost wished she hadn't, the pain in her eyes was too much. "We know that…now…Grissom. But at the time, we didn't know Andrea Barber's case would be full of dead ends. We let the case go cold, and now he's out killing again."

"Sara…An innocent man is free, and a guilty man is in jail because of the work we did on the Lyford case. This isn't your fault. "

She closed her eyes, holding up a hand to forestall any more discussion. "I said I know Grissom. Just…I just want to look it over again. "

When she looked back down at her work he'd opened his mouth to argue further, only to close it with a sigh. "All right. Don't stay here all day, Sara."

He should have known she wouldn't listen; he should have stayed and made her go home and get some sleep. Sending her home now was going to be a battle he wasn't sure he was prepared to wage.

A crash from the direction where Sara was working snapped Grissom out of his thoughts. He frowned as his pace increased, and found himself jogging as he made it to the last corridor.

"Sara…" He could see the struggle through the glass walls of the lab as soon as he turned the corner. Sara, his Sara, shoved against the edge of the evidence table, a man's hands around her throat. "SARA!" In the split second between uttering her name, and screaming it, he could feel the weight of a decade of denial collapsing on him. Dreamlike, it seemed he was running in a mire, muck reaching up to impede him as he raced to reach her, every second taking him to the edge of 'too late'. Already she was weakening, her hands dropping helplessly to her side.

Grissom crashed into the lab; the sound of the door slamming against the wall made the man inside jerk in surprise and loosen his grip slightly. It was enough, enough to let Sara gulp a frantic breath, enough to stave off the blackness for another moment. Grissom spared a second to wish he carried his sidearm in the lab as he strode across the few steps that separated them. His voice thundered through the room as he reached out a hand to clamp on the man's shoulder. "Get the hell off of her!"

The man merely grunted as Grissom reached down to pry his fingers from their grip on Sara's throat, his gaze locking on her wide eyes. He peeled fingers back, pressing his body between hers and her attacker, each move punctuated by a word. "Get. Your. Hands. Off. Her. Now!" Fingers loosened, Grissom twisted, stepping in front of Sara and shoving the man forcefully into the wall. Behind him, he could hear her desperate struggles for breath, the sound etching a scowl on his face as he turned to where her assailant had crumpled to the floor.

"Her fault…her fault Maddy is dead."

"What?" Grissom stared uncomprehendingly at the twisted face of Jeremy Beal as he reached behind him to gather a trembling Sara into his arms. He couldn't look at her, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't take his eyes off the man still sprawled on the floor. A trickle of blood made it's way down Jeremy's face, where his head had been slammed against the glass wall. Grissom noted the blood with something like fierce satisfaction. "Sara didn't have anything to do with what happened to your wife, Mr. Beal."

"She did." His voice was a growl as he forced himself back to his feet, "The paper…I saw it in the paper. She," he spat the word as he looked at Sara leaning weakly against Grissom's chest. "She let him go. A year ago…the paper…I saw it." He waved his hand around the room, "I came to ask her why. Why did she quit looking? Why did she give up? Why did she let him go to kill my Maddy?"

Grissom felt more than heard Sara's pained gasp at the man's reasoning. He tightened his arms around her, held her more tightly as she pushed to escape the accusation. "You're wrong, Mr. Beal." He risked a glance down then, wincing as he spied the angry red marks circling her neck, standing in stark contrast to her pale face. His eyes met hers for a moment, lingering on them as he whispered to both her and Beal. "Sara never gives up on anything." He pulled his gaze back to the other man. "I pulled Sara from the Barber case. I put her on one that was…"

"More important?" Jeremy Beal had recovered enough to sneer at Grissom, clenching his hands clenching in fists.

"No." Grissom shook his head, "Just one we had less time to solve."

Jeremy Beal wiped at the blood dripping onto his neck, "You should have made time for her!"

Grissom sighed, gently lifting a hand to stroke Sara's hair. He felt her shift and risked another glance, his eyes catching hers and holding them for a moment. "I should have made time for a lot of things." Beal's sob drew his attention away from her; he looked up in time to see the man slide back down the wall to wrap his arms around his knees.

"I should have made time for Maddy."

Grissom had no answer for that, the words an echo of what his own would have been, had he been a few minutes later. He probably wouldn't have come up with an answer even if Brass hadn't chosen that moment to rush into the room with Catherine and Warrick.

One look at the bruises already welling around Sara's throat, and the detective's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched tightly. He glanced at Catherine, then back at Sara, "Cath, take her. Call an ambulance. Warrick, call the desk, put a rush on those guards." As he spoke, he crouched next to Beal and roughly pressed him the rest of the way to the ground to search for weapons.

"No…" Sara's voice barely choked out the syllable as she pushed weakly against Grissom.

"Please Sara," Gil's hand shook as he touched her neck gently, "We…" He paused, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. "_I_ just need to know you're all right." At her slow nod, he gently transferred her to Catherine who led her from the lab. Once she was gone, his low voice filled the room, "How did you know?"

"Backup's on the way." Warrick flipped his phone closed with a sharp snap, then looked from Beal to Grissom, his own face set in an angry grimace. "You gave Cath your messages. There were several from him, each one more irate than the last. Judy from reception told Cath he came in looking for Sara. She told him to have a seat, and then took a delivery. When she was done, he was gone. Catherine found us," he nodded to Brass, "We didn't think Sara needed a confrontation with an angry husband, so we came looking."

Grissom nodded wearily as he sank onto one of the stools and silently watched Jeremy Beal until the two uniformed officers arrived.

"Get him out of here, Jim."

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"Catherine," Grissom jogged back into CSI from the police station, ignoring Judy's calls about new messages from Atwater and Carvallo. Booking Jeremy Beal had already taken more of his time than he wanted, the sheriff and lab director could just wait. "How's Sara?"

"Sore. Scared. The EMTs checked her out, of course she refused to go to the hospital." She paused, her tone somewhat exasperated. "You know Sara. How are _you, _Gil?"

He sighed, pulling his hand roughly over his face, "I'm fine." He glanced back to Judy with a deepening frown, "I'd be better if you'd answer those messages for me. Where is Sara?"

"Of course," Catherine nodded. "We tried to send her home to get some rest." She quirked a smile at the stubbornness of the youngest CSI, "She's in the locker room. Waiting for you, I think."

"Thanks Cath."

Grissom found Sara slumped on one of the benches, leaning forward and resting her head against her locker. Her eyes were closed, her fingers clutched in her lap. He could see tears glistening on her cheeks. She looked so fragile that his breath caught in his throat.

Sara looked up at the sound, hastily brushing at her cheeks. Her voice broke as she whispered his name.

Her normally sweet, husky voice was hoarse; the word scratched out barely loud enough to hear. He let the door close behind him, his eyes meeting hers. "Hurts to talk?" He hovered just inside the locker room, his feet cemented to the floor.

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes again. The tears were what did it. As soon as he saw them, Grissom was across the room, kneeling at her side, his hands reaching up to encase hers. "Sara, honey…I'm so sorry."

She stared at their hands, watched as a tear fell across his knuckles. "Not your fault." She squeezed his fingers, wincing as she tried to swallow back more tears. She sniffed, dropping her chin against her chest and clenched her eyes closed tightly.

He let his own eyes drift closed, running his thumbs gently over her fingers. "No Sara, I am sorry. I didn't listen to you when I pulled you off that case, I might have still had to take you off, but I should have listened to you. I'm sorry I haven't listened to you much at all lately." He dropped his own head, leaning it gently against hers. "I'm sorry for so many things."

"Shhhh." Sara squeezed his hands again, "Doesn't matter now. If…if you hadn't…today…if you hadn't been there…" Sobs came then, for all she tried to hold them back.

"Sara," Grissom rose to sit beside her, pulling her to him. He held her tightly as her body shook, his hands gentle and soothing. His lips brushed lightly over her hair as he whispered her name repeatedly. "I have you, you're safe. I'm here. I'll always be here."

Sara curled her fingers around his shirt, pressed her face tightly against his neck until the sobs finally subsided. Slowly she relaxed, until she was able to sit up and meet his eyes. "Always?"

Grissom smiled and touched her cheek gently, "Always Sara." He dropped his lips to her forehead, smiling gently into her hair. "Always." His thumb came up to caress her neck softly, "You need to rest. Let me take you home. We can talk later. I know we have a lot to talk about."

Sara answered his smile softly, "We have time."

The End


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